Thanks for the review. I’ll make revisions in my personal copy, since I haven’t yet figured out how to make revisions to the published versions without deleting the previous reviews.
I appreciate the feedback.
Short Story / The Envelope
A tingle crawled up the back of Jim’s neck. Someone was behind him. He groaned inwardly as the odor of stale cologne assaulted his nostrils.
If I don’t turn around, maybe he’ll go away, he thought, focusing intently on the computer screen in front of him. He sighed as his supervisor cleared his throat..
Putting on what he hoped was a pleasant smile, Jim swiveled his chair around. “Hey, Bill, what’s up?” he asked.
“Jim, I hate to drop this on you, but I need you to take the Wilson project. The customer has moved the timetable up on us and really put us in a tight spot. I’m afraid it will probably involve some overtime.
“Sure, no problem,” Jim replied. Thoughts of slowly twisting his supervisor’s head until it popped like an overstretched balloon animal ran through his head. Here’s what I think of your overtime. The smile on his face never wavered.
Bill beamed at him and clapped him on the back. “That’s the team spirit, Jim!” Then he turned and walked back up the aisle between the rows of identical gray cubicles, whistling an off-key tune.
Yeah, I’ve got your ‘team spirit’ right here, pal. With the irritating whistling shrilling in his ears, Jim turned back to his computer. As he did, his elbow clipped one of the numerous stacks of paperwork on the desk, sending the pile tumbling to the floor in an avalanche of paper and printer ink. He scowled at the documents now carpeting the floor of his cubicle. If I don’t get out of here soon it’ll be MY head that blows up, he thought, bending down to reassemble three weeks’ worth of tedious research.
The rest of the day passed in a mind-numbing imitation of molasses in winter that surely had to have broken several laws of the space-time continuum. At one point, Jim was fairly certain that the hands on the clock had moved backwards a few minutes. After an eternity in purgatory, Jim looked up to see the clock finally hit five o’clock. At least it’s Friday. Two days that I don’t have to think about this place.
Riding down the crowded elevator, with an anonymous briefcase getting uncomfortably personal with him, all Jim could think about was how unhappy he was with his life and how it was turning out. Moving into this field was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. He always felt rushed and never seemed to have the time to just slow down and enjoy the little things in life. Not that he knew what those little things were, but he was pretty sure he was missing them.
Finally, just as he was about to ask for a goodnight kiss or an engagement ring from the overly friendly briefcase, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.
As he was carried out of the elevator by the torrent of bodies, he overheard one of the receptionists say, “That’s him right there, just coming out of the elevator. He’s the one with the blue striped tie.”
The tide of humanity eventually dispersed enough to allow him to pause for a moment. As he adjusted his jacket, a voice from behind him called, “Mr. Blevins? Are you Jim Blevins?”
Jim gritted his teeth. If the owner of this voice was one of the company’s clients, Jim would soon be serving time on assault charges. Pushing the thought aside, he put on his bland, professional smile and turned to face the speaker.
“Yes? I’m Jim Blevins. What can I do for you?”
The woman approaching him appeared to be a few years younger than Jim, with a short pageboy cut shaping her reddish-brown hair. She was wearing a tailored business outfit and was fairly attractive, in a tomboyish sort of way. She stopped when she was within a couple of steps.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said. “I’m sure you’re busy, but I’ve been trying to track you down for the last two days.”
“Two days?” A stalker? Great, that’s just what I need. “What is this about?”
“I…” she stopped and looked down. In one hand she held a small seashell. She smiled a little as she looked down at it, slowly rolling it between her fingers. Then she looked back up at Jim. “I’m sorry. This is going to seem very strange.” She held an envelope out to him with her other hand. “This is for you.”
“What’s this?” Please don’t tell me this is a summons. He didn’t reach for the envelope.
“It’s hard to explain,” she said. “But it’s for you.”
He glanced at the cream-colored envelope in her outstretched hand. Across the face of it, in intricate gold calligraphy were the words ‘Jim Blevins, Business Analyst.’ Although he had never before received a summons, he doubted they would be quite so ornate.
“Is this some sort of sales pitch? An invitation to a seminar for time shares or something?” With an almost superhuman effort, he tried to sound polite. “I appreciate your effort, but I’m really not interested.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” she shook her head. “You don’t have to buy anything, or listen to any cheesy spiels. It isn’t any sort of gimmick or sales ploy.”
“Then what is it?” Jim asked again.
She fidgeted a little under his stare, pulling the envelope back. “I told you. It’s hard to explain. I’m not sure I could explain it even if I wanted to try.” She took a deep breath, and then looked directly into his eyes. He almost took a step back underneath her searching gaze. “But I know it’s something you need,” she said intently. Then she looked away, and in an almost wistful voice she said, “It’s something we all need.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and she smiled that little smile again. “It was something I needed.”
This was getting a little too odd for Jim. He pretended to look at his watch. “Look,” he said. “I don’t know what this is all about, but I’m running a little la…”
“You’re overworked,” she interrupted in a firm voice, turning that direct gaze back on him again. “You’re overstressed. Sometimes you feel like you’re running on fumes. You feel like somewhere in your life you’ve made a terrible mistake, but now it’s too late. You’re trapped, and sometimes you just feel like giving up.”
Now she was definitely making Jim uncomfortable. How did she know that about him? Was he that transparent to everyone?
“What are you talking about?” he asked. He thought his voice sounded a little too high-pitched for someone completely in control of his life. Taking a breath, he steadied himself. “What makes you think I feel like that?”
The intensity in her eyes faded a little. “Because I felt like that,” she said. “I felt like I was missing something in my life. I wondered why I even kept trying.”
“So what’s that got to do with me?” he asked. “Why do you think that’s how I feel?”
She held out the envelope again. “Because this is for you.”
He looked back down at the envelope. The gold letters now appeared to glow on its satiny surface, as if promising answers to questions he hadn’t yet thought to ask. As he gazed at it, the building around him seemed to fade away.
“Please take it.” The woman’s voice sounded disembodied, coming from somewhere outside a realm where only he and the envelope existed. “I promise,” her voice said, “you may have many regrets in your life, but you won’t regret this.” The envelope floated closer to his face. “This is for you,” she repeated.
Without knowing how, he found himself holding the envelope. His eyes traced the delicate curves of the calligraphy. His fingers reveled at how smooth it was.
As if from some distant place, her voice drifted into his reverie, “For me it was a walk on the beach.”
He came back to himself with a start, realizing that he was standing in the foyer of his office building staring at an envelope he didn’t remember taking. He scanned the lobby, but the woman was gone. He looked back at the envelope. It was just an ordinary envelope with fancy gold lettering on it. Then he looked at his watch and swore under his breath. If he didn’t get moving he was going to miss his train. Jamming the envelope into his jacket pocket, he hurried out the doors into the noisy city streets.
Huffing and puffing, he made it to the platform just as the doors were starting to close. With one last burst of speed, he slipped between the doors into the nearest car. Clutching one of the poles, he struggled to catch his breath as the train pulled away from the platform.
After an uneventful ride, he got off at his station and walked to the bus stop for the next leg of his daily journey. He had forgotten about the envelope until his fingers brushed against it when he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. He pulled it out and examined it again, turning it over to see both sides. On the back, written across the top in small print were the words “Open when ready.”
“Open when ready?” Jim mumbled. “Ready for what?”
On impulse, he tore off one end of the envelope. Before putting his fingers in to retrieve the contents, he carefully looked in the open end. No telling what some nut job might have put in here. The envelope appeared to contain nothing more than a single sheet of paper, with something hidden within the folds. He reached in with his fingers and drew the paper out. After making sure there was nothing else in the envelope, he stuffed it back into his pocket and slowly unfolded the paper.
As he opened it up, Jim saw a large, bright yellow ticket with blue print on it. He held the ticket up to read what was written on it:
> > > TICKET TO FRITH FAIRE < < <
The bearer of this ticket, one James Nathaniel Blevins, is hereby entitled to one round-trip passage. To redeem this ticket, please follow the directions listed on the accompanying map at any time.
Satisfaction is guaranteed.
“Frith Faire? What’s that supposed to be?” he mumbled.
Before he could give it more thought, the dull roar of a poorly tuned engine and a hot gust of diesel exhaust notified him that the bus had arrived. He quickly stuffed the ticket and paper back into his pocket and boarded the bus.
As the bus rumbled toward its next stop, Jim thought about the woman in the foyer. How had she known he felt that way? Had someone been talking to her? But who? Who would know that? He thought he had done a fairly good job at concealing his dissatisfaction.
It wasn’t just his job, but life in general. The things that he thought would bring happiness always seemed so far out of reach, a distant horizon that never seemed to get any closer. It was like having a destination in mind, but not having any idea how to get there.
By the time he dragged himself through the door of his apartment, his mood was darker than it had been at work. As he emptied the contents of his pockets onto the worn coffee table, he pulled out the paper and ticket. He scanned the text on the ticket once more.
“Whatever,” he said, tossing it on the table. Just another gimmick to sell something.
After warming up a microwave dinner, he sat down to watch TV. Ten minutes of flipping through channels convinced him that there was nothing on worth watching, so he turned the set off and picked up a book he had been reading. He tried to focus on the pages in front of him, but just over the top of the book he could see the ticket and the paper that had come with it lying on the coffee table.
Frowning, he raised the book up, blocking the view of the ticket. As he read, the book slowly dropped back down until the ticket was in view once more. Satisfaction is guaranteed. He gave his head a quick shake and renewed his efforts to concentrate on the words, but found his eyes straying to the coffee table almost of their own volition.
“This is ridiculous!” he growled. Snapping the book shut, he got up from the chair, grabbed the paper and the ticket and stomped over to the trashcan in the corner of the room. Before he could change his mind, he lifted the lid and tossed in both pieces of paper. Looking at the ticket in the trash, he hesitated for an instant. Then he let the lid drop shut, and went back to his chair.
He tried to read some more, but the woman’s words kept echoing in his thoughts. “This is for you.” With a sigh he closed the book. It was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on it tonight. He decided to just turn in early and get a good night’s rest so he could enjoy his weekend.
The next morning, Jim woke up feeling rested and ready to enjoy two days off without having to think about work. He walked out into the front room of his apartment and stopped dead in his tracks. The ticket and paper were lying on his coffee table. His eyes narrowed as they swept the apartment. I know I threw those away. Moving carefully over to the door, he checked the locks, but everything appeared to be just as he had left it the night before…. except for the ticket.
He slowly walked to the coffee table and looked down at the ticket and paper. An iridescent shimmer flashed briefly across the ticket as if it was made of metal instead of paper. Blinking his eyes hard, he looked again. It was just a piece of yellow paper with blue printing on it. Reaching down, he carefully pulled the sheet of paper out from underneath the ticket.
The paper had a fairly detailed map on it, with written instructions below the map. From what Jim could see, the map led to a place in the woods just outside the city.
“Why in the world would they put it in the middle of the woods?” Jim wondered aloud. “There are plenty of places in the city to have a sales seminar.” He read through the written directions. They led him out of the city; then he was to turn on a county road, and then . . .wait a minute. Get out of his car and follow a trail? This was getting stranger by the minute.
To add to the mystery, the last paragraph said, “This is a very personalized, once-in-a-lifetime experience intended solely for the person named on the ticket. Additional parties will render the ticket null and void. Please come alone.”
Jim pursed his lips as he read the last paragraph over, then lowered the paper. Ticket to Frith Faire. I wonder…
“No,” he said, shaking his head firmly. “No. Just…just, no!” He dropped the paper and ticket on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to fix some breakfast. The woman was probably some sort of psychopath, living out in the woods with a few of her in-bred cousins like some modern day version of Deliverance. He pictured them out there just waiting for some poor sap to follow those directions.
He tried to focus on fixing his breakfast, but continually found his thoughts, and occasionally his eyes, wandering toward the ticket. He made himself think about something else, anything else, even the Wilson project. Every time he thought he had banished the ticket from his thoughts, the words “This is for you” would drift through his memory.
By the time he finished his breakfast, he knew what he was going to do. I can’t believe I’m actually going to go out there, he thought. He considered leaving a note in case the worst happened, but changed his mind. If he didn’t come back from this, he didn’t want to be remembered for being an idiot. Instead, he got dressed, grabbed the ticket and instructions, and headed out the door.
Thirty minutes of traffic lights and exhaust fumes later, Jim finally headed into the countryside surrounding the city. The directions were clear and he quickly found the road indicated on the map. Not much further he came to a fork in the road, and, following the directions, turned onto an unpaved lane that wound into a heavily wooded area. He found the spot where the map showed the path and pulled off the road into the grass.
As he got out of his car, he spotted the entrance to the trail. Last chance, Jim, he thought. You can always get back in the car and go home. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he started walking toward the path.
“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” he said to himself. The one plus was that the weather was beautiful, and the fresh air was a pleasant change from the heavy atmosphere in the city. The sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly. A cool breeze blew gently through the trees.
As he walked down the winding trail, the thick foliage quickly obscured the road behind him. The dense greenery seemed to mute the sounds until the forest took on an otherworldly feel, as if Jim had somehow stepped into another realm of reality. The silence was putting him on edge. He expected someone or something to jump out at him at any moment.
He was about to turn around and head back to his car when he heard a whisper of sound from somewhere up ahead. Ignoring the voice of caution in the back of his mind, he moved further along the trail, his eyes sweeping the undergrowth on both sides with each step.
Five cautious minutes later, he had almost convinced himself that the sound had been nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination. Then he heard it again, a little clearer this time. It sounded like…..laughter?
As he puzzled over who, or what, might be laughing unseen along the path, the breeze carried a faint scent to his nose. It was a warm, sweet smell that was somehow familiar, although he couldn’t quite place it. All thoughts of turning back faded away. He felt drawn forward, as if gently pulled by some unseen power.
Moment by moment the laughter and the smell grew stronger, joined by other sounds and scents. Now he heard music, and could smell other odors that also seemed familiar although he was still unable to identify them. Coming around a bend in the trail, he stopped short, completely taken by surprise at what he saw before him. The path opened up into a large glade, and in the middle of the glade was a carnival.
Jim stood at the entrance to the path staring at the sight before him in confusion. A carnival? In the middle of the woods?
The rides rose up from the glade like embodiments of childhood memories. Here was the Tilt-A-Whirl. Over there was the Octopus and Merry-Go-Round. There were other rides as well, the names of which Jim couldn’t remember. Towering behind them all like the grand matriarch of the carnival was a gaily-decorated Ferris wheel.
Sprinkled among the rides were concessions booths and game stalls, all painted bright, happy colors. He saw a vendor selling kettle corn and realized that had been the first odor he had smelled. He saw other booths selling hot dogs, cotton candy, and all of the other calorie-laden treats one would expect to see at a carnival.
There were a number of people strolling among the various attractions, and laughter from happy children rose up from the rides like colorful balloons sailing into the clear autumn sky.
As Jim stared at the scene, a man approached him. “Welcome to Frith Faire,” the man said jovially. “Do you have your ticket?”
Jim gazed blankly at him, not comprehending his question. The man looked as if he should be making overenthusiastic announcements from the center ring of a circus tent. He was dressed in a top hat and tails, and the waxed curls at the end of his large handlebar moustache were almost comically stereotypical.
The man waited a moment, and then cleared his throat and said politely, “Your ticket, sir? Do you have it with you?”
“What?” Jim asked. “Oh! Oh, yes,” he said. “I have it right here.” He jammed his hand into his jacket pocket, pulled the large yellow ticket out, and handed it to the tuxedoed stranger. The waxed tips of the moustache rose toward the crinkles at the corners of the man’s eyes as he smiled broadly and took it from Jim’s hand.
“Splendid!” the man exclaimed, examining the ticket. “Welcome to Frith Faire, Mr. Blevins! We have been expecting you.”
“Expecting me? So I take it the woman who gave me this ticket works for you?”
“For me? No, no,” the man shook his head. “None of our workers ever leave the grounds. That lovely lady was just another satisfied customer.”
“Uh, huh,” Jim said. “’Satisfied customer’? So, what exactly is it that you’re selling here?”
“Selling, Mr. Blevins?” the man replied. He laughed merrily, making his moustache dance. “My dear sir, we are not ‘selling’ anything at all here. Now, if I could just have your right hand.”
Bemused, Jim held out his hand, and watched as the man tied a bright blue ribbon around his wrist.
“There we go,” the man said brushing his hands together and beaming at Jim. “That will get you into the fair and all of the attractions.”
Jim looked at the ribbon on his wrist, and then back at the mustachioed man. “So, what do I do now?” he asked.
“Do, Mr. Blevins?” The man gestured toward the rides and attractions. “Why, do whatever you like, sir. Ride the rides. Play the games. Have fun! Enjoy the fair!” He pulled out a large pocket watch and studied it for a moment, and then looked back at Jim. “Now if you will please excuse me, sir. I have something to which I really must attend. If you need anything, simply ask one of the workers. They will see to it that you have whatever you need.” With that, the man gave Jim a wink, and strolled quickly toward the center of the carnival, disappearing behind one of the booths.
Jim stared after him for a moment, then turned to survey the array of rides and attractions once more. Almost involuntarily, he drew a deep breath, inhaling the savory scents of the various concession stands. Although he had eaten breakfast not long before, his stomach rumbled as if he hadn’t eaten for hours.
“I suppose I could at least stay for a hot dog,” he said to himself.
Scanning the booths, he spotted one whose cheerful sign proclaimed the presence of the best hot dogs in the state.
The carny inside greeted him with a wide smile. “What can I getcha?”
“Uh, a hot dog, I guess,” Jim said.
“Everything on it?” the man asked, reaching for a bun.
“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Jim answered.
“Coming right up!”
A few moments later, the man handed Jim a hot dog so loaded with condiments and toppings that Jim wasn’t sure at first if there was an actual wiener underneath it. His mouth began to water at the enticing aroma.
“How much?” he asked.
The man pointed at the ribbon on Jim’s wrist. “That covers it. You don’t pay for anything with that. Enjoy!”
“Really?” Jim wasn’t sure what to think. He considered questioning the man some more, but decided not to push his luck. “Okay, well…thanks,” he said, and then turned away quickly before the man could change his mind.
Licking the remains of the dog off his fingers a few minutes later, he thought about getting another one. After all, they’re free. He decided against it, however, and strolled down the midway, checking out the games and attractions to either side.
“You, sir!” a voice called. “You look like you’ve got a good arm on ya! Step right up here and try your luck!”
Jim turned to the voice. A worker in a nearby game booth was waving him over.
“That’s right. You, sir! Come on over and win a prize! Nothing to it!”
Smiling shrewdly, Jim shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think I’ll keep my money right where it is, at least for now.”
The man pointed at Jim’s wrist. “No money, sir. You’ve got the blue ribbon. You can play ‘til you win with that around your wrist.”
“Seriously?” Jim asked.
“Word of honor,” the carny avowed.
“Well, okay, I guess,” Jim said, bemused. What was the catch to this? Surely there would be a price to pay at some point. With a shrug, he decided to let it go for now and concentrate on the game at hand.
It was a standard carnival game, with three milk bottles; one stacked on top of the other two. The object of the game was to knock all three bottles over with one throw. Although Jim hadn’t thrown anything other than a pity party in many years, he didn’t think it would be all that difficult.
Fifteen minutes later, he revisited that thought. While he had proven to be expert at knocking one bottle over, and even fairly proficient at toppling two of them, getting all three had thus far proven to be much harder than he had originally thought.
A few spectators had gathered to watch his efforts. They would “ooh” and “ahh” every time he knocked two bottles over, and groan sympathetically when the third stubbornly refused to fall. Voices encouraged him to keep trying, telling him that he almost had it. His shoulder was starting to hurt, though; he wasn’t sure how many more throws he had in him. Just a few more, he thought, drawing his arm back.
“Hey, mister, can I try once?”
Lowering his arm, Jim looked at the speaker. The boy appeared to be about eleven or twelve years old, with tousled blonde hair and surprisingly innocent blue eyes. He looked up at Jim, waiting for his answer.
“Can I try, mister?” he asked again.
Something stirred in Jim’s memory as he looked at the boy. He looked familiar somehow, but Jim couldn’t quite place him.
Jim looked at the carny running the game. Raising his wrist, he asked, “Will this cover him too?”
The man pursed his lips, looking back and forth between Jim and the youth. “Well,” he said slowly, “normally it’s not allowed.”
“Please?” the boy pleaded.
The man took a deep breath, and then grinned. “Oh, why not?” he said. “A beautiful day like this? I suppose we can bend the rules just this once.” He handed two balls to the boy.
“Great!” the boy said happily, putting one of the balls back on the counter. “I’ll get you that prize, mister!”
Eyeing the bottles intently, he let fly with a fastball that struck the bottles dead center. All three went flying like bowling pins.
“Nice shot!” the carny said. “You’ve got quite an arm there, sonny.” He reached under the counter and held something out to the boy. “Here’s your prize.”
Taking the offering, the boy turned to Jim. “Thanks for letting me have a throw, mister,” he said. “Here, this is yours.” He held his hand out to Jim.
Jim tried to decline. “You won it,” he said. “Fair and square.”
The boy shook his head. “But I only got to try because you let me. This is yours,” he said firmly. “Besides, I’ve already got three.”
Jim held out his hand, and the boy dropped his prize into it: a thumb-sized, plastic Cupie doll. Jim examined the small figurine. That’s it? He shook his head. You’re kidding. Well, at least I didn’t have to pay anything for it. He dropped the toy into his pocket.
“Well, thanks again, mister,” the boy said. “I’ve gotta go. My folks’ll be wondering where I’m at.” With a wave, the boy jogged off, quickly disappearing among the attractions.
Jim stood for a moment, looking toward where the boy had disappeared, wondering why he had seemed so familiar. The voice of the carny interrupted his thoughts.
“Try it again, sir?” he asked with a smile.
Rubbing his shoulder, Jim said, “I think I need to give my arm a rest. Thanks anyway.”
“All right then, sir,” the man said. “Good day to you.”
Jim nodded to the man, and walked away. He spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the carnival. Occasionally, he would try a game, never coming close to winning. He also sampled more of the carnival fair: funnel cakes, kettle corn, and other tasty treats. He even took a spin on the Merry-Go-Round, smiling as the breeze blew through his hair. Without intending to, he found himself getting completely lost in the experience, his suspicions and misgivings forgotten.
A few hours later, as he was strolling down the midway listening to the music and the sound of children’s laughter, Jim realized something was wrong. There was something missing in all of this. He slowed down, and focused more intently on his surroundings. After a moment, his eyebrows slowly rose as he realized what the difference was.
There were no children whining to their parents to ride “just one more ride,” or play “just one more game.” There were no parents yelling at their kids for not listening to them, no one crying because their ice cream or cotton candy had fallen on the ground.
Thinking back over the last few hours, he couldn’t remember hearing anything like that at all. The revelation was so unexpected that Jim could only stand there, a look of wonderment on his face.
For the first time, Jim started to take note of the people around him. There was a dad with his young son on his shoulders, wide smiles on both of their faces. Here was a mother and daughter walking hand in hand, swinging their arms like schoolgirls. Looking up at the Ferris wheel, Jim saw a husband and wife and their young daughter just coming over the top, the little girl squealing in excitement as their car descended. Everywhere he looked he saw more of the same thing, not a frown or cross word to be found. He felt like he had just stepped into a Norman Rockwell painting.
As he approached the center of the carnival, he saw a pavilion with picnic tables set up underneath it. In the shade underneath were a few families eating or resting, and a couple of older gentlemen playing checkers, nodding to each passerby.
Jim walked over to an empty table, passing the two men in the process. They looked up from their game and nodded their greeting to him, Jim nodding in return. Reaching the table, he slowly sat down.
From where he sat, he gazed in wonder at the scene around him. Everywhere he looked, fairgoers looked happy and contented, no sign of discontent or irritation on a single face. Kids laughed and ran from one ride to another, even stopping to say “Excuse me” whenever they inadvertently bumped into an adult. Jim was even more amazed that the adults never got angry or cross with the children who collided with them.
Is this real? Jim wondered. Am I hallucinating? Even as the thought crossed his mind, another sensation began to gently descend upon him. It was unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant. It was like coming in from a cold day and having a warm blanket placed around your shoulders. Muscles he hadn’t even realized were tense began to relax.
Along with the easing of the tension in his body, he began to feel a release in his mind and spirit. His discontent and feelings of frustration began to fade, replaced by a sensation he had never known. As he sat mesmerized by what he was seeing, he thought, This is how it’s supposed to be. People living and interacting without all the arguing and fighting. A slow smile crept across his face, as he recognized what he was feeling. It was a sublime sense of peace that was filling his spirit. As he felt the tension leaving his body and spirit, a single tear traced its way down his cheek.
Basking in the serenity filling his soul, he heard a familiar voice.
“I trust you are enjoying your stay at the fair, Mr. Blevins?”
Wiping his face quickly, Jim turned to see the man who had originally taken his ticket.
“How did you do this?” Jim asked wonderingly. “Who are you people?”
The man smiled. “Us? We are just a collection of souls who do what we can to give people what they need when they don’t know what they need.”
“And how did you know what I needed?”
The man tilted his head a little. “Most people confuse ‘wants’ with ‘needs,” he said. “People want many different things, always thinking those things will make them happy, but most of the time what they really need always boils down to one thing: peace. That elusive knowledge that there is a higher reason for living our lives than acquiring possessions and wealth. The realization that true happiness does not come from without, but from within.”
Jim thought about that for a moment, and realized that the man was right. All of his discontent and frustration didn’t really have anything to do with his job, or the things that he thought he needed to be happy. It was all because of that one missing element. It was all because he had been looking outward for fulfillment, instead of inward, where it really mattered. He looked back at the man.
“Thank you,” he said. “I just…well…thank you.”
Inclining his head, the man said, “You are more than welcome, Mr. Blevins. It has been our very great pleasure to have you as our guest. And now, once again, I must be going.” He tipped his hat to Jim. “Good day to you, sir.”
“No,” Jim said with a smile. “It’s been a great day.”
As the man walked away, Jim laid his head down on his hands, closing his eyes to revel in the tranquility rolling over him like warm, gentle waves.
An insistent buzzing sound dragged Jim from his slumber. Without opening his eyes, he rolled over and hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. His eyes flew open as his fingers pressed the button. He was in his bed in his apartment. What?? He sat bolt upright. How did I get here?? He didn’t remember driving back from the carnival. The last thing he remembered was laying his head down on the picnic table. He jerked his hand up in front of his face. The ribbon was gone.
He struggled out of bed and ran into the living room. A quick glance at the coffee table revealed no ticket or paper. He threw the lid off the trashcan and rifled through the papers and food wrappers inside, scattering trash across the floor. No ticket. Spotting his jacket on the back of a chair, he grabbed it, cramming his hands into every pocket. Still nothing.
Had it all been nothing more than a dream? Jim found that hard to believe. It had been too real. He could still taste the hot dog. He could still almost smell the warm, sweet aromas of kettle corn and melted caramel. His shoulder even felt a little sore from throwing the balls at the game booths.
No, it had really happened. The only question he had now was how he had gotten back to his apartment, and there was only one place that he was going to get that answer.
Dressing quickly, he headed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. A few minutes later, he was in his car pulling out onto the street. He could see the map as clearly in his mind as if he were holding it in his hand. Forty minutes of driving and he pulled the car over to the side of the dirt road in front of the entrance to the trail.
He jumped out of the car and ran to the trail, gripped by a sudden sense of urgency. He needed to feel that sense of peace again, needed to know that it had been real and not just a dream. Slapping aside the occasional small branch, he jogged down the path, listening intently for any sound, sniffing at the wind for the familiar scent.
He came around the final turn and stopped, panting from his exertion as he took in the scene in front of him. The glade was completely empty. There was no sign that there had ever been anything there at all.
“No,” he whispered under his breath. It wasn’t just a dream! I know it wasn’t!
The gently waving grass in front of him seemed to mock him. There was not so much as a single flattened patch that would have betrayed the existence of the carnival. As he scanned the empty glade, a profound sense of loss filled him. He felt as if he’d had something magical within his grasp and let it slip away.
With a sigh, he dropped his head. Then he saw it. A cream-colored envelope lay on the ground at his feet. That wasn’t there before. Was it? He bent down to pick up the envelope, but his hand stopped when he noticed something lying in the grass beside it: a thumb-sized Cupie doll.
He gently picked up the figurine and stood up. It lay in his hand, staring back up at him like an avatar of innocence. As he looked at it, a long-forgotten memory flooded his mind. Sudden realization brought with it a wave of dizziness. He remembered winning this Cupie doll! Not yesterday, but almost twenty-seven years ago.
He had been at a county fair. The day had been perfect, and he had been having as much fun as any twelve-year-old boy could possibly have, wandering among the booths and riding the rides. He had watched a man at one of the game booths trying futilely to knock over the three milk bottles. After watching a number of unsuccessful attempts, he’d finally asked if he could give it a shot. When the man agreed, Jim had knocked all three bottles over with one throw.
He had won a Cupie doll for his efforts that he had given to the man. This Cupie doll! How is this possible?? Jim didn’t know how it had happened, but he knew now why the boy had looked so familiar. And he knew deep inside that he had been given a priceless gift.
Carefully, he closed his fingers around the doll, wanting to feel the reality of it safely nestled within his fist. As he thought about the sensation of the doll in his hand, he felt a familiar peace filling his soul once more.
Closing his eyes, he let the feeling take him into its soft embrace. For a brief moment, he could smell the warm aroma of the kettle corn, and the breeze brought an echo of laughter to his ears. He could feel the carnival surrounding him, gently brushing aside all thoughts of work, all thoughts of problems.
Drawing a deep breath of the fading caramel smell, he opened his eyes, once again seeing the empty glade. But it was real. I don’t know how, but it was real.
He bent down and picked up the envelope. As before, there was writing on it, done in ornate gold calligraphy. As he read it, a smile crept across his face. Keeping his hand firmly closed around the Cupie doll, Jim turned and walked back up the path, the carnival song whistling softly from his lips.
Sitting in her usual spot on the crowded subway, Amanda mulled over the events of the week. It was only Wednesday morning, and she felt like she’d already had two Mondays in a row. She groaned as she felt a familiar vibration in her pocket. What now? She wanted to just leave the phone on the subway seat and walk away. Instead, she took it out and raised it to her ear.
“Amanda Jenkins,” she said crisply. As she listened to the voice on the other end, her face darkened. She realized she was about to start her third Monday. What did I ever see in this career?
“What?? What do you mean the shipment’s been delayed?” she demanded. “I need that shipment. I needed it yesterday!” She listened again for a moment. “I don’t care what their excuse is! You tell them that they had better have that shipment at the warehouse by three o’clock today, and I don’t care what they have to do to get it there!”
She slapped the phone shut and buried her fists in her curly dark hair. This could not be happening! One of their biggest orders of the year, for one of their most important clients, and they had to pick now to have a problem getting it through customs. Unbelievable! She wondered what else could possibly go wrong. With a heavy sigh, she buried her face in her hands, propping her elbows on her knees.
Glowering at the floor, she saw two feet come into view, stopping right in front of her. Go away. I really don’t want to start the day by putting someone in the hospital. On the other hand, she thought, it might be good stress relief. She pushed the thought aside, and tried to will the stranger to leave.
“Excuse me,” a man’s voice said, “but did I hear you say your name was Amanda Jenkins?”
Sliding her face up through her hands, Amanda was able to look at the man through her fingers. He was pleasant looking enough, dressed in a nice business suit and tie. She took a deep breath and straightened up, trying to look professional.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “I’m Amanda Jenkins.”
“Would you happen to be in international sales?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said uncertainly. How did he know that? “I’m sorry. Have we met?”
“No,” he answered. “We’ve never met. But I’ve been trying to find you. I…” He stopped and looked down. In one hand he held a cheap plastic figurine. He rolled it between his fingers, smiling a little.
There was something a little unusual about his smile. She found herself edging away from him slightly. Oh, great. As if my day hasn’t gotten off to a bad enough start, this whacko has been trying to track me down.
“Find me?” she asked hesitantly. “For what?”
The man chuckled. “I apologize,” he said. “I know this must seem strange.” With his other hand he held an envelope out to her.
“This is for you.”
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Reignman reviewed Version 16 -
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That was fun.
It was a very creative way of letting people know we should all take a step back once in a while and realize what’s importan. I like the mellowing out process Jim went through. My only gripe is that you got unnecessarily preachy in the last third of the the story before Jim woke up. You didn’t need to say what he had been missing, i think it was pretty self-evident. The waking up in bed after leaning back at the picnic table was a nice touch.
This story is reminiscent of an old Twilight Zone episode, but the compliment I want to make is that i can’t place which one. Good job.
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imara219 reviewed Version 16 -
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I really enjoyed the beginning of the piece and fell into the world you created but by the time the carnival scene occurred I felt like the story had slowed down significantly. I was so intrigued by the envelope and you did a good job building that excitement and curiosity. However, that dissipates a little when the reveal comes. I understand that the focus of the story will shift at this point, but I wanted that intrigued back. Also, the conversation with the carnie seemed a little over handed, a bit much. You could have proven your point by showing the Jim having pure fun at the carnival being so involved and so into the scene that fun is just spilling out. You only need one; maybe, two lines of dialogue about “need” and “want”. I get the impression that he is a spectator enjoying the uniqueness of the situation but he isn’t really apart of it. Also, I felt as if you could have stopped at page 23, we know what is going to happen when he finds the envelope again, that he will have to find someone and give it to them but I don’t think you have to show us that. However, this is a preference I think the piece was really wonderful and I can def see you publishing this. An agent should be able to do something with this.
starhammer1 reviewed Version 16 -
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This was a very nice read and I enjoyed it immensely. You have a lot of skill when it comes to writing, and I didnt catch much errors or grammar problems as I read over it. The dialogue is very nice and is used very effectively, and adds an effect to the characters that give them each their own personalities. Good work and I hope to read more of this in the future.
wornoutwoman reviewed Version 16 -
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This blew me away. I loved loved loved it. Amazing short story. I was drawn in instantly and couldn’t stop reading. We’ve all felt this way and can relate!
googooguns reviewed Version 16 -
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Absolutely wonderful. The best story I’ve read so far. You should have no problem getting it published. -applause- Wow. Just wow.
quaintfungus reviewed Version 16 -
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This is a very engaging and heart warming tale told in an intriguing fashion. I think the way it is written suits the story perfectly. The reader is continually presented with questions that draw them further into the tale. Some how this type of story seems old fashioned. I am not sure if your hero should be able to make more of a logic change to his life after the ‘envelope’. He seems to be reminded of what is important in life and i would like to see him make a concrete change.
If I have any suggestions about making the story better then they would generally be about the language. This sometimes feels a little pre used
ie
The space-time continuum – bit feels well worn. You could try to find something else or stick with the imitation of molasses in winter – that is more original and i think a better image.
Sparkles reviewed Version 15 -
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Read easily and is obviously well thought out. No obvious technical mistakes.
Lovely image of popping the supervisor’s head.
Very engaging, the story constantly pulls me into it and piques my curiosity.After saying that everyone looked contented it is not necessary to say that their faces showed “no sign of discontent”
I think you may have jumped into your “moral of the story” the wrong way…it seems that if you have to be told, it really doesn’t help.
MsRose79 reviewed Version 15 -
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Overall, your story content flows well. There are a few things that need tweaking. I really enjoyed it, and hope to see it ‘out there’ one day. Here are a few things to look at and review.
Format: Needs spacing into paragraphs. This will emphasize each critical point and dialogue. It also enhances the overall appearance of your story.
Indentations were good.
Page 8: TV -try “television” instead.
Page 14: Mustachioed?
Page 17: ( it: a thumb-sized, plastic Cupie doll. ) it. A thumb-sized plastic Cupie doll.
Page 18: (:) again*
seien reviewed Version 15 -
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I have three words for you: I loved it. _ The theme of the story was just beautiful! I love how you bring out the idea of people sharing their joy with one another, that really is how it should be. I was so curious as to what was in the envelope that I just had to keep reading. Your ideas were clear and simple and you did a great job conveying your message. Your sentence structures were varied so they didn’t get boring, and you chose words and settings deliberately to evoke emotion from the reader. :D I have nothing but praise for your story. Great job!
mata_pichones reviewed Version 15 -
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I thought the theme was well chosen. Contemporary occupations offer very little in the form of satisfaction for some of us, and I liked your use of nostalgia as a means of remembering what is good in life. Still, I don’t see a resolution to the conflict. The protagonist didn’t change. He only escaped his unsatisfying life for a night. How did that experience change his life?
You round out the protagonist well, though. I was on board with him going through something life changing by the time he leaves the elevator. I liked the briefcase in the elevator, by the way.
This is a very challenging story to try to tell, especially using linear narrative. The plot demands you set every scene well and doing so chronologically while keeping the readers attention takes some doing. Unfortunately, I don’t feel you pulled it off. After a while, I felt I was drifting away from the story. The language and descriptions were flat for me. The only line that stands out is the “avatar of innocence” line when he finds the figurine the next day. The main problem, though, is that the story is far too long. There isn’t enough in the 7,000+ words for me. I know the protagonist is unhappy, now throw me another bone or I’m moving on. As a result, I wasn’t distracted enough by other elements of the story to not see what was coming. I wasn’t surprised by any plot development: him as a kid knocking down the bottles, the figurine as proof and keepsake of the night, etc. I hate to put it so bluntly, but the story was dull for me.
I’m sorry for the bad review, but it would be a disservice to your efforts if I wasn’t honest about my opinion. There is definitely enough here to make a good story, but as of this draft it isn’t.
Good luck.
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